Day 483

Checked it at first light. Wedges holding. Doubler plate didn't shift. But the scour under the north piling's worse — greenheart shim's seated but the void behind it's deep. Tide's low now. I'll look before the boat comes.

Walk to the dock with the heavy wrench and come-along, inspect the mooring ring mortise and north piling scour at low tide.

I'll stay in the shallows. Just need to see how bad the scour is — if it's undermining the piling toe, we might lose the ring even with the doubler plate. Won't go past my knees.

Wade carefully to the north piling, probe the scour with the spade handle, check if the greenheart shim is still seated and not washing out. If it's loose, I'll drive another oak wedge behind it before the tide turns.

Current's pushing northeast — same as the wind. I'll face into it, keep low. Won't be long.

Probe the scour hole with the spade handle — feel for the piling toe and check if the greenheart shim is still bearing or if it's suspended in water. If it's loose, I'll drive an oak wedge behind it to take the load.

I’ll fix the cloth after I check the radio one more time. Then we’ll get you inside, warm.

Walk to the porch, pick up the shortwave radio, and turn the dial slowly to Tom’s known frequency, listening for any sign of life in the static.

I’ll check the tank after I shore up the west corner. You sit tight—no standing. I’ll bring you a mug of nettle tea when I’m done.

Walk to the garden shed, grab the spare cedar stakes and a coil of new three-strand rope, then return to the shade cloth’s western anchor point where the fabric’s ripped free.

Tea won’t get cold in this rain. Water’s boiling on the stove. I’ll bring it out in a tin.

Drive the cedar stake deep with the mallet, pull the shade cloth taut, and secure it with a clove hitch and two half-hitches on the new rope—then move to the next anchor point, working methodically along the western edge.

Double hitch it is. North corner next.

Move to the north anchor point, pull the shade cloth tight against the expected shear, and secure it with a double hitch on the new cedar stake, cinching it down hard with the mallet handle for leverage.

Going now.

Walk to the porch, pick up the shortwave radio, power it on, and run through the scheduled supply boat frequency first—key the mic: "Sorrel Island, position 49°12'N 006°45'W, requesting supply boat ETA and status. Over."

On it. Stay under cover.

grab the radio from the shelf and fumble for the shattered insulator, pressing the spare one into place with self-amalgamating tape while the rain drums on the roof.

Checking now.

key the mic on the scheduled supply frequency, holding it steady while the wind rattles the porch boards, and wait for the static to break.

Nothing. Just static.

flip to Channel 16, the distress frequency, and key the mic again — maybe a ship, maybe the coast guard, maybe anyone close enough to hear.

Let's finish these corner lashings quick. Wind's shifting—we don't have much time.

walk to northeast corner of garden, grab rope end, pull tight around oak stake, tie secure double-hitch, move to northwest corner, repeat, then southwest, then southeast, checking each lash for slippage as I go.

Stakes going deeper. You sit. Don't need you going down on that ankle.

grab mallet from tool bag, drive northeast oak stake three solid hits deeper into soil, check line tension, move to northwest stake, repeat, then southwest, then southeast, each stake driven until only six inches show above ground.

Last stake's going in. Hold on—we're almost done.

drive southeast stake three hard hits with mallet until firm, give each line a sharp tug to test hold, then coil spare rope, walk to Jenny, slide arm under hers, help her stand slow, walk her step by step toward cottage door, keeping her we

I've got you. One step at a time. Porch is close.

tighten grip around her waist, match her pace slow and steady, carry most of her weight up the three porch steps, through the door, lower her onto the settee, pull blanket from the pile, tuck it around her legs, press back of hand to her fo

(quiet) Rest now. I'll wake you for meds.

walk to kitchen counter, unwrap honey-garlic poultice from jar, spread thick on clean cloth strip, fill tin mug with water, set doxycycline and metronidazole tablets on cloth beside mug, sit on stool beside settee, wait and watch her breath

Take the pills first. Whole mug after.

hold out two doxycycline and two metronidazole tablets on palm, wait until she takes them, press mug into her hands, guide it to her lips, make sure she drinks it all, then peel back blanket, unwind old poultice strips, clean wound with boi

Radio's on the shelf. I'll check it now.

walk to the kitchen shelf, pick up the shortwave handset, key the mic on the supply boat frequency

Supply boat, supply boat, this is Sorrel Island caretaker station, over.

hold the mic keyed, wait for the squelch to break, listen for any reply through the static

Nothing. Propagation might be bad with this front moving through. I'll try again at the scheduled window.

set the handset back in its cradle, glance at the barometer on the wall, then at Jenny's ankle wrapped clean under the cloth

It'll bottom out before dawn if it follows the last pattern. Boat's got a 40-foot hull and a cautious captain. He'll hove-to if he has to.

pull the porch door shut against the first real gust, latch it tight, then move to the wood stove and add two splits of dry firewood

Fire'll hold. Plenty of wood.

close the stove door, adjust the damper for a slow burn, then sit on the floor beside her — close enough that shoulders touch — and reach for the water tin to check the level

Four hundred litres. Overflow's running down the back wall.

lift the tin, feel its weight, set it back on the stove trivet, then pull the notebook from my pocket and flip to the last weather log — barometer 954 at dawn, yesterday — and add today's reading: 986 hPa, falling, southeast wind increasing

Yeah. Heard it. Doesn't sound like the supply boat.

walk to the porch and raise the binoculars to my eyes, scanning the southern horizon

Stays where you are. I'll take the radio up to the hilltop if I need to.

keep the binoculars trained on the approaching vessel, tracking its course and speed relative to the island